Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing whatever to do with Supernatural. That would be Kripke and co.

Summary: AU - Dean wakes up in a world he doesn't belong to, where his mother is alive and his father never became a hunter. Meanwhile, Sam must contend with a version of Dean who is even more screwed up than the brother he knew. Dean fears for 'his' Sam and Sam, not used to being in the role of carer, longs for the return of 'his' Dean, if just so he can hang on to just one shred of sanity. But perhaps the swap is a blessing for their counterparts. Rated T for mild bad language and drug references.

A/N: This is a story that just won't leave me alone. I have a couple of chapters written already and thought I'd see what people thought of it. Enjoy :)


I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore

"What the…?"

It was obvious to Dean that he was in a hospital but the reason why he was there eluded him…and where the hell was Sam?

The last thing he remembered was being woken up by Sam at some ungodly hour and made to answer a string of questions to show he was all there, just in case he'd got a concussion when he was being thrown around Hill Road Cemetery earlier that night.

Dean couldn't help thinking it was just their luck to end up hunting a spirit who was haunting the place she'd been buried. He couldn't understand why Esther Morgan's family would want to bury her in the place she'd been murdered but that was really none of his concern. What was his concern was distracting the bad tempered ghost while his brother burned her bones. Much to his dismay she enjoyed throwing things, not to mention people, and was good at it. Dean didn't remember losing consciousness at all but he couldn't really argue when Sam said it was better to be safe than sorry, so he'd submitted to being woken every hour and asked stupid questions with a minimum of cursing and rude gestures.

How he got to the hospital and what he was doing there did not feature in his memory at all.

He heard the sound of approaching footsteps and a tall woman in a nurse's uniform stepped through the curtains surrounding him.

"Well hello Dean," She greeted him, as though they were old friends, "Nice to see you're back with us." She inserted a thermometer into his ear.

Dean said nothing, trying to work out if he should know her.

Apparently his temperature pleased the nurse, Cara according to her name tag, who smiled as she recorded the thermometer's reading on what was presumably his chart. Except…how did a hospital he probably had never visited before in his life have a file on him that was almost as thick as a crappy drugstore romance novel? Something just wasn't right and as Dean looked around he realised that there was no sign that Sam had ever been there. That scared him more than waking up in a hospital when he last remembered being in a crappy motel room. He opened his mouth to ask about his brother but closed it again almost immediately. He didn't know why he was there, didn't know what bullshit story Sam might have spun about why he was there and didn't know what aliases Sam might have used. Better to wait until he had a better grasp of what was going on.

"You know, we really should stop meeting like this. I mean this is what? The third time you've landed in here in as many weeks?"

It was all Dean could do to keep his complete and utter confusion from showing on his face. It had been over six months since he was last hospitalised and that was because he'd been bitten by a snake while poking around a poorly maintained rural cemetery and, strangely enough, his and Sam's first aid kit didn't include anti-venene. Dean was fast deciding that something supernatural was going on but for the life of him he couldn't think what.

Dean was still trying to come up with a reply that wouldn't make him sound stupid when he heard the sound of arguing from somewhere beyond his cubicle. He could make out at least three separate voices and the loudest was unmistakeably his father's. This only served to make Dean even more certain that he, in the words of Dorothy Gale, was not in Kansas anymore. After all, when Dean was dying after being electrocuted Sam had called Dad to tell him what was going on and the man hadn't even returned the call, much less rushed to Dean's bedside. If Sam hadn't found a way to save him he'd have had Buckley's of ever seeing his father again. The idea that Dad would be here now was absurd.

The nurse whistled. "Sounds like your daddy's already built up a fine head of steam. I hope you can keep a civil tongue in your head this time Dean, we don't really need a repeat of last time"

Dean could only assume that he and Dad must have had a monumental argument but it was hard for him to imagine – he'd always left that sort of thing to Sam.

The argument was getting closer. Suddenly the curtains at the foot of Dean's bed were flung back to reveal his father, a flustered looking female doctor and…his mother? She was much older than she was in Dean's memories of her and the few pictures he had and she looked somewhat sad but it was definitely her and Dean was torn between shock at seeing his mother again over twenty years after her death and terror at the utter fury that was written all over his father's face.

Terror won out. The look on his father's face was reminiscent of the expression he'd worn in his incandescent rage when Sam had announced he was leaving and Dean's body tensed as he unconsciously prepared to defend himself.

"I have had it with you Dean! You said you were going to stop this shit! You know you almost died tonight you took such a damn big overdose! I don't know what to do with you, how the hell am I supposed to sit here and watch you self destruct?"

Dean winced and fought the urge to cover his ears. Possibly there were some people in Australia who couldn't hear John Winchester's rant but it seemed unlikely. Dean wasn't entirely certain what his father was on about but with all he'd seen and heard since he woke he was starting to think that there were maybe a few grains of truth to the theories he'd heard about parallel universes and other realities. The only explanation for his current situation he could think of that made any kind of sense was that he'd somehow landed smack bang in the middle of one.

"I just don't understand how you can keep doing this! Do you even care that you're throwing your life away?"

The tirade continued and when it started to go around in circles Dean tuned out and considered what he had learned so far about this, for want of a better word, reality.

From his father's outburst Dean had gathered that he was in the hospital because he'd overdosed on something. He had also made some promises that he hadn't kept. It was blatantly obvious that Dad was royally pissed at him.

His mother was alive, that was the fact that stood out to him most. Did the demon that had killed her in the world Dean knew not exist here? Had it just not visited? However she had escaped dying in this reality, the fact remained she was alive and well and her presence alone was almost enough to make Dean ditch his plans to look for a way back. Almost being the operative word here. There was still the little matter of Sam.

So far no-one had mentioned Sam and as far as Dean could tell his brother wasn't here in person. Did he even exist in this reality? If he did exist here would he be anything like the version of Sam that Dean had left behind or would he be completely different? Assuming that Sam did exist here, and that he was at least a little bit like the brother Dean knew, his absence from the hospital was probably to be expected. More than likely he was away at college, and this time with Dad's blessing.

"John, stop it!"

Dean was jerked from his musings as a female voice cut through the racket his father was making. Looking up he realised it was his mother who was speaking. Irrationally, because having last seen her alive when he was four years old he was doing well to have any memory of her at all, it hurt Dean to realise that he didn't recognise his mother's voice. At her words his father fell silent.

"Dean, honey, when Dr Simmons says you can leave would you consider coming home with us so we can sit down and talk about this? Please?"

Dean looked from his mother, to his father and back again before speaking to another person for the first time since waking up to find the world standing on its head.

"Yeah, ok, if talking doesn't mean yelling." He paused for a moment. "As long as we're on the subject, when can I get out of here?"

"The naloxone the paramedics gave you should wear off in about twenty minutes. If you are still conscious and coherent when that happens I'll be happy to release you." Dr Simmons answered.

It was on the tip of Dean's tongue to ask what the hell naloxone was but he suspected from the matter of fact way the doctor talked about it that he was supposed to already know. He needed time to think and he also wanted to get his hands on the chart at the end of his bed – maybe it would shed some light on what was going on here.

John broke the silence. "I think I'll go get some coffee. Mary, do you want anything?"

"No thanks. I think I'll stay here with Dean." She turned to face her son. "If that's ok with you honey?"

Dean shrugged, unused to anyone actually asking if he wanted their company. "Sure, stay as long as you like."

"John, I'll come for a walk with you if that's ok. I think we need to have a little chat." Dr Simmons said. John scowled but left with her anyway.

His father gone, Dean let out a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding. Cara left, with a promise that she'd be back to check on him soon, leaving Dean and Mary in the little cubicle.

Mary dropped down on the edge of Dean's bed with a sigh.

"So, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." It was Dean's standard answer whenever anyone, in particular Sam, enquired after his health. In honesty he was tired and it appeared a brass band had taken up residence in his head but his mother didn't need to know that.

"You know your father doesn't mean half of what he just said. He's just worried about you."

"I know." It had been the same with the version of Dad Dean had known – any emotion other than happy usually came off as pissed.

An uncomfortable silence followed. To be lying there with his mother at his side was so surreal for Dean and he really didn't know what to say beyond answering her questions. When Mary began absently stroking his hair Dean leaned into her touch. He wanted to stay forever in this moment, basking in the glow of his mother's love, but what of Sam? Stronger than the yearning for his mother that had taken root in his heart when he lost her at the tender age of four were the ties that bound him to his little brother for better or worse, death may try to part us. He couldn't leave Sam to face the horror of their world alone.

***

"SONUVABITCH!"

Sam woke with a start at the sound of Dean's voice and leapt out of bed in a panic.

"What's wrong?" He fumbled for the light switch, finding it and flicking it to bathe the room in light.

Dean glared at Sam. "And here I thought you were the smart one." He rolled his eyes.

That made absolutely no sense to Sam and he said as much, which apparently did not impress Dean.

"Oh cut the crap Sam! This is something I would have expected of Dad, but not you! Where the hell are we and how the hell did you get your hands on naloxone?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "We're in the crappiest motel in Morphettville, Kansas. You dragged us here to get rid of a spirit who was attacking people paying their respects at Hill Road Cemetery. You know, the bitch that spent half of last night throwing you around."

"My God, you're crazier than I am! I suppose the Easter Bunny was there too was he? And the Tooth Fairy? Look, I know you don't approve of me, and you've only told me half a million times that I'm killing myself, but what gives you the right to abduct me, drag me to God knows where and then feed me bullshit when I ask where we are?"

If Sam had been in a cartoon his jaw would have been on the floor such was his shock at what Dean was saying. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. As he tried to think of something to say he realised Dean wasn't looking so hot. His face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and he was shaking.

Dean groaned. "I think I'm gonna puke!"

Thankfully the bin in their room was metal, rather than the wicker variety. Sam grabbed it and shoved it in front of his brother just before Dean started retching. He was surprised that most of what came out was bile, knowing exactly what Dean had had for dinner before going to the cemetery. While Dean was incapable of speaking Sam took the opportunity to take a closer look at him.

The first thing Sam noticed was that Dean was far paler than he'd been just a few hours ago…but maybe that was because he was sick? His other observations couldn't be so easily explained away. For a start, Dean seemed to have lost a great deal of weight in the hour or so since Sam had last woken him. Not that Dean had ever been fat, but there was a distinct difference between the lean, muscular brother Sam had known and the weedy specimen he was looking at now. What was more worrying was that Dean's arms were covered in what appeared to be needle marks. Dean didn't have any great problem with needles but at the same time he didn't stick himself with them without good reason and Sam couldn't think of any good reason for all those marks. Not to mention that he knew for a fact that they hadn't been there when he was patching up Dean's left not five hours ago.

"What are you staring at?" Bringing up his toenails had not improved Dean's mood.

"I…" Sam trailed off. He didn't know what was going on but Dean obviously thought he did. Asking what his brother was sure to view as a dumb question would not be helpful. "Nothing."

"Liar."